by Nora Flite
Thrown off by his sudden compliance, I followed him out into the storm. The parking lot was flooded, puddles forcing us to walk in awkward patterns. He held the umbrella over both our heads, the nearness reminding me of when we'd walk home together from school as kids.
My mind was already in a strange spot. Nostalgia was doing its best to ruin my courage. When Sean spoke, I visibly jumped. “Lola, why are we out here?”
Lifting my eyes, I watched the edge of the umbrella. Rain fell to its death in rivulets. “I needed to corner you. You've been avoiding me ever since... ever since Drez and I...” My cheeks burned so hot I expected to see steam.
“That's not it.” He halted in front of the quiet road, the surface shiny from the street lights. I felt him looking at me, but I kept watching the edge of the canopy. “I wasn't avoiding you because you slept with him. I don't care about any of that.”
Burying my hands in my pockets, I searched for warmth and found none. “Is it because we haven't been talking as much? I promised to tell you all sorts of things, and then I stopped, I know, but...”
“No. Lola, you don't get it.” The edge of the umbrella wavered; rain tumbled in a cascade into the street, melting away. “It's not about any one thing. It's all of it together. It's what it means for me.”
That threw me off. “What does it mean for you?” What is he...
“It means you don't need me anymore.”
My eyes were frozen on his, searching the depths of his sapphire-blues to better understand the hurt, the defeat, simmering there. “Of course I need you! Sean, you're my brother. I'm always going to need you.”
I despised how sad his smile was. “I guess I just wanted to be the one you always came to for help... for whatever. I don't know. After everything I've done—well.” He broke the stare, gazing off at the nothingness of the thunderclouds. “I'm just being selfish. You made it to the top. I wanted to see you get there, but I also wanted to be there with you. I guess I wasn't ready for your success.”
Was it possible for my heart to crumble? I grabbed his wrist where it brushed the umbrella handle. “What are you talking about? You're the one who...” Who I always looked up to. Who is—was—at the top. All at once, I understood the wall between my brother and I.
His eyes glistened. Sean knew what I'd just grasped. “Yeah," he said. "You're where I always dreamed I'd be. Headlining a tour like this makes you better than me, Lola. Maybe you always were.”
“No! No, I wasn't. I'm not.” A compliment had never cut so deep. I didn't want to be better than Sean. He'd taught me everything and he'd worked so hard. He was the one who should be in my shoes. “Stop acting like your dream is over.”
He adjusted his grip on the umbrella, crushing it. I felt it under my fingers. “You don't get it. There's no way to climb past this.”
"'This.' What does 'this' mean?" Eyeing the tension in his jaw, I listened to the rain drumming around us. “There has to be a way for Barbed Fire to go further.” Life can't be unfair like that. “It's all you ever wanted, right? How can you even imagine giving up?”
His frown was soft on the edges. “If I knew of a way to succeed, would you help me?”
I stood straighter with a rush of excitement. I wanted to cling to the tiny speck of hope in his question. “Of course! You know I'll help you anyway I can, Sean.”
There was a storm in his eyes, it was far greater than the one that roared around us. The words that left his mouth clawed away the last of my warmth. “I want you to leave Four and a Half Headstones.”
My tongue stuck inside my mouth. “W—what?”
Sean curled his palm around my fingers on the handle, trapping me under his pleading stare. “Quit the band and come join Barbed Fire. You can be our second guitarist, do rhythm! I'm an idiot for never suggesting it before. I know you always wanted to join.”
My heart was going wild, it had never felt so big and so small all at once. “Wait, Sean...”
“Lola. Please.” His grip tightened on me; I struggled to decide if he was begging me or intimidating me. I didn't like either option. “If you do this, we can both make it big. We'll destroy every stage! Sell out shows! We'll be on top, the both of us.”
Both of us. “I can't just abandon Drez and the others.”
“Relax. They'll find someone to replace you," he said, laughing like I was some delusional child.
My muscles screamed as I ripped my hand away from his. I stumbled backwards into the rain, the cold droplets clearing my head. “They're my friends.” Drezden's scent tickled my brain. “And... more than that.”
Lifting his chin, Sean held the umbrella steady. “You're actually picking them over me. Over my dream that you act like you care so much about.”
“I do care! But you can't expect me to shove them aside like this!”
“What makes them worth more than me?” He was whispering, I was halfway reading his lips. “What makes him worth more?”
The pity in my heart bled away. “He isn't making me choose between you two.”
Laughing bitterly, Sean tilted the umbrella at an angle. He didn't react to the water that splashed across his shoulders. “No? Think about it, Lola! That asshole makes you choose every second of the day! Did you forget that you missed my show at Belly Up because of him?”
He was right. He was right, and it hurt more than if he'd just knocked my teeth out. "He didn't mean to make that happen!" Did he?
Sean spat into the street. “You think a guy like him is worth more than your own damn brother?”
“Stop saying that! Stop acting like it's about any of that!”
“He's an entitled piece of shit!”
I threw my arms down, shouting over the thunder that roared. “You're the one acting entitled! I just wanted us to talk again, for things to be normal! Why are you being this way?”
Rain had drenched us both. It felt like we were the only ones alive in the world right then. Sean mumbled, but I heard him clearly. “Because I care about you. Because I want to protect you.”
“I'm not in any danger, Sean.”
“You really think he isn't dangerous?”
My brain was forever spinning. “Drezden wouldn't hurt me.”
Sean's brows ducked low. “Are you sure? He's got a hell of a temper. Do you actually know anything about him?”
“Of course I—”
“Anything real?”
Gripping my forehead, I focused through my pulsing temples. “What are you talking about?”
The satisfied smile that crawled across my brother's face left my insides twisting. I didn't know this man. “Do you even know his real name?”
Something inside me crackled; exploded. His real name. It left my ears ringing, made me wonder if lightning had boomed inches from me. Drezden isn't his real name.
How had I not known that?
How did Sean?
He offered me the umbrella. When I didn't reach for it, Sean forced it into my hand, curling my fingers around the base like until I held on. “You think you know this guy. You don't know anything about him, not really. He lies and hides from you. He's a deceptive, greedy motherfucker. Okay?”
I stared at my feet.
“Lola. Look at me.”
I did as he asked. There were raindrops perched on my eyelashes; when I lifted my head, they rolled down like tears.
Sean said, “Ask him to tell you the truth. When he won't—and he won't—come talk to me. I promise I'll bring you the answers you need.” For a while we both just watched each other’s pale faces. He moved to leave, hesitating. “Unlike him, you can trust me.” Then he was gone, jogging back to his bus.
In the early, muted shades of the world, I stood alone. My existence was tip-tapping rain, the whistle of wind, and that was all. The water rushed along the road, carrying trash and vanishing into the sewer grates, never to be seen again.
I wanted to be that trash.
I wanted to wash away.
- Chapter Twenty-Three -
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Drezden
“Hey, you alive in there?” I asked.
Lola sat up ram-rod straight. Sunlight, streaming in from the small window in the roof of the bus, made her face glow. “Sorry, I zoned out. What was that?”
She's been zoned out for days. And the reason is fucking obvious. It bothered me constantly how, after I'd confronted him in the dark hours half a week ago, Sean still hadn't reconciled with Lola. The piece of shit said he'd talk to her. He clearly hasn't. Do I need to corner him a second time?
“Now you're the one zoning out,” she said, perfect lips tilting in a smile.
If there wasn't a table between us, I would have pushed her down right then and kissed her taunting mouth. I settled for reaching across, stealing her fingers and guiding them over the notebook I'd set in front of her. “I asked what you thought of these lyrics so far?”
Like my touch had revitalized her, Lola squeezed my hands. Curls of her thick hair toppled her bare shoulders when she leaned down to read the words. I hadn't had anyone judge my song-writing skills in such a long time. Watching her scrutinize the bits of my brain and soul carved into ratty, lined paper was making my heart jump.
What if she hates it? Blood pounded in my ears. Fuck, it doesn't matter if she hates it. Why would that make a difference? I was sure my lungs were going to collapse from holding my breath. Of course it would make a difference. I want her to be impressed.
I'd never felt so vulnerable; I regretted handing her the lyrics.
Maybe I could grab them back?
“These are wonderful.” The pink blooming on her cheeks made her blue irises sparkle even brighter. “How did you write these so fast?”
Swallowing past the dry patch in my throat was difficult. “It's been almost a week since we decided to collaborate. That's plenty of time.” I'd poured over the words hourly between dreaming and waking. Writing a song like this—and did she understand what it was? —took every moment I had.
And Lola said it was wonderful.
The table between us was mattering less and less.
“I have a question, though,” she said. Pulling her hands from me, Lola turned the notebook around, brushing her nail down the paper. “Am I insane, or did you mark down a section for a second guitar?”
Now it was my turn to smile. “We'll play together.”
She dropped the notebook like it was a bomb. “Both of us?” I didn't understand the tension crawling across her forehead. What was she thinking about that had her so unsteady?
Leaning forward, I tucked her hair behind her ears. The way she bent into my touch made my jeans far too tight. Fuck, she works me up just by existing. “Is that a problem?”
Lola didn't relax, I felt her pulse under my palm. “It's fine. I didn't know you could play guitar, is all. It's... kind of weird to not know that about you.”
The bus seat rumpled when I fell back into it with my full weight. “I'm nowhere near as good as you, but I'm decent enough to play with if you'll lead.”
“How long have you been playing for?”
Grimacing at the memory of large hands guiding my own across the strings of a guitar, I hesitated. I don't want to go down that road. “Who knows,” I mumbled quickly. “I guess since I was a kid.”
“Then you learned from someone, like me. Was it a brother? Do you have any siblings at all?” There was an edge in her voice that left me confused.
“What? Why does that matter?”
Furrowing her eyebrows, Lola set her intense stare right on me. It was impossible to break away. “Because it's something about you I don't know. Tell me about your family, about learning to play. Just give me more information about yourself.”
“You're acting weird.” Lola flinched at my observation, but she didn't look close to backing off. What's this all about? Why the sudden digging into my life? “I don't like this inquisition. You're asking me things that don't matter.”
“Then what does matter?”
Grabbing my notebook, I spun it on the table, jammed my finger onto it. “This! Our final tour performance is tomorrow night. Let's start practicing so we can show everyone out there how serious this is!”
“Maybe you should show me how serious we are, first!” Scowling, Lola pushed out of the seat. “You said we were dating, that you're my boyfriend, but I hardly know anything about you!”
We hung on the precipice of destruction. I could see it in her eyes, knew she was about to storm off the bus if I didn't do something. Pulling in a lungful of air, I stood up to block the aisle. “Lola, listen. What you're poking at here... maybe there's a reason I don't want to go into it. Okay?”
Holding her ground, she looked into my eyes and didn't waver. “So there is something you're hiding from me.”
Frost darted through my veins. What does she know? “Everyone hides things.” Lola's eyes rippled, hinting at a deep guilt. She had hidden things from me, too, until recently. I was sure I could have turned the whole conversation on its head until she felt bad about pressing me.
Instead, I settled for wrapping her hands in mine. Her breath caught as I pulled her against my chest, my voice soft in the silence of the bus. “Lola, listen to me. You want to know more about my past, but it's just not worth knowing. Nothing about who I was before we met is important.”
She leaned into me, stiff as old bread. The way she was resisting me, all while her heart thumped along my ribs, just encouraged me to try and break her down. Before I could do anything beyond nuzzling her tender throat, Lola squeezed my fingers and turned away. “Everything about you is important. Past, present, and even future. Isn't it the same for you about me?”
Shit. She had me there. I wanted to know, to have, everything about Lola Cooper. Gingerly, I glided my fingers up her arms, explored her goosebumps. When I reached her shoulders I cupped them. “Trust me. When I say my old life isn't important, I mean it. I don't want you asking me about it. Alright? Lola?”
Her eyelashes hid those blues from my view. “No. It's not alright.” Her elegant neck arched back, allowing her to look at me so matter-of-factly. “You told me not to lie, or to act tough when I'm faking it. So I won't. I'm frustrated you won't talk to me. Hell, I'm even mad about it. But I also won't force you to tell me about your past.” Untangling herself, she scooped up the notebook from the table. “Come on. You wanted to practice, let's go do it.”
The air around me felt... colder. Watching her taut spine, how her shoulders were pulled back sharply enough to treat her shirt like a coat hanger, I regretted my words. But what else can I do?
In what world would telling Lola about my fucked up life help either of us?
****
We had the practice room to ourselves for some time. That was good, because I was rusty as hell on guitar, and didn't want Colt and Porter seeing me fumble. We should have practiced sooner. It didn't help that I was feeling the pressure from Lola's glum mood.
Tightening my strings, I glanced up at her where she sat close by. We both needed to see the sheet of paper with the music notes, especially as we randomly scribbled changes while we worked.
The song we were creating was coming together. It was a beautiful thing made muddy by the sourness between us both.
“You think this part should be faster?” she asked, tapping the page, adjusting the Stratocaster in her lap. “Where you sing, 'Wrapping, coiling, merging with the world?'”
When she says the lyrics so bluntly, it makes me feel... ashamed? She was missing the whole core of the song. My face was hot; looking at her was difficult. Shit. I feel like an awkward teen all over again, fuck. “Yeah. Let's speed that section up.”
Lola smudged more pencil down, then plucked a few notes thoughtfully. “I think that'll sound better. More intense.”
I drained my water bottle. “You write a lot of music before this?”
“None.” At my look of disbelief, Lola shrugged. “Nothing structured, I mean. I just goofed off and made stuff up when it came to me.”
Thinking about her audition, I let my stunned smile take over. “A damn prodigy.”
She shifted on the stool. I could see the pink blush coating her cheeks. “Says the guy who can play guitar and sing.”
“I told you.” My fingers slid down the neck of the instrument, exploring it as if I'd never held one of its kind. “I'm only okay at guitar. You have ears.”
“My ears tell me you're better than you think.”
“Guess we're even, then.”
Chewing the side of her lip, Lola focused on the floor. “Come on. Let's play this again. Neither of us are where we want to be, yet.”
No, I thought sullenly, letting my guitar pick strike the chords. Right now I want to be on you, wrapped up in your scent and your eager pussy. My lower belly thrilled with a surge of heat at the image.
I'd have to settle with singing about my desires.
For now.
We practiced until midday, working until we were sounding cohesive. At this rate, we'll be able to play this tomorrow night just fine.
We were interrupted by Colt and Porter. The two slid into the room quietly, respecting how caught up we were in our song. They sat on the sidelines, eyes focused, ears straining.
By that time, I was more comfortable with my instrument. Years of playing as a child, into my teens, were coming back with the waking of my muscles. Lola never called me out on my errors; I noticed all of them, though.
I'm still not as good as I wanted to be, growing up. That doesn't matter anymore.
Being a guitarist hadn't been my dream, after all.
It had been my father's.
“It's sounding great,” Porter said, clapping when Lola and I paused. “You sure you don't want me and Colt to join in on this?”
“Maybe a little 'oomph' from the drums?” Colt added, mimicking playing his sticks in the air. “It'd add some texture to the song.”
Setting the guitar aside, I stood and cracked my back. “I appreciate the offer, but I'd like it to be just Lola and me out there for this one.”
Colt rubbed at the side of his right eye. “I'll try to hold in my tears of jealousy.”
